


Cold Turkey

by fuzipenguin



Category: The A-Team (2010)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Murdock goes cold turkey on his psychiatric meds





	Cold Turkey

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my livejournal on 7/7/10; edited to repost here. 
> 
> Written for a prompt by esprit_boheme at a_team_kink- (Face/Murdock: After they break Murdock out of the German psychiatric facility, once they're on land again, Murdock would have to go through some serious shit to get the drugs out of his system, and he's probably suffering side-effects from the SPOILER ECT that we saw in the clip after the credits. Let's see Face deal with the withdrawal or physical side effects of the electrocution :). I love me some H/C, anon, so run with it and have a ball hurting (and the healing!) our boys!)

                Adrenalin burns through the drugs like a wildfire and by the time the tank trundles to the outskirts of a small nameless town, Murdock’s hands are trembling, and trembling badly. He hides it by darting around the inside of the metal behemoth, fiddling with knobs, tugging on levers and humming to himself until finally Hannibal asks him politely, yet with an edge of irritation to his voice, to ‘pop his head up top and take a look around’.         

                 Murdock does so with relief. The grinding noise of the tank treads and the oily odor of the interior is messing even further with his already low-level nausea. The mountain air is sweet here, clean and fresh, matching the white-washed sparkle of the houses coming into view down in the valley. He relays the sight, including the finding of several serviceable cars that they could pick and choose from for their next leg of their travel further into Germany.

                 They end up with an older, nondescript SUV, and BA slides behind the wheel with a glare to the rest of the group. Face merely grins and holds up his hands in surrender, allowing Hannibal his customary shotgun position and seating himself behind BA. Murdock slouches down in the seat behind the Colonel, pulling his hat down low, and shrugging the edges of his coat close together. The tremors have moved up his wrists and forearms, and he can feel them starting in his shoulders. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to find somewhere inside his head that isn’t buzzing with static.

 --

                  For the first hour, none of them realize anything is wrong. Hannibal and Face converse about Pike and Sosa, plans to get them into the city, and supplies they’ll need. BA comments occasionally, but mostly concentrates on the road in front of him. Murdock sings under his breath every now and then, but when Face feels the bench seat against his back shaking more than from tires running over a rough road, he realizes that it has been a while since he has heard a sound from his friend.

                 He looks over and blinks, eyes opening wide. To the casual observer, Murdock is just taking a nap. But Face sees the hands fisting into the cloth of his coat, watches as tremor after tremor shakes the man’s lanky frame.

                 “Murdock!” he exclaims.

                 The pilot bolts upright with a gasp, hands flailing a little before latching onto the door. “Nononono, didn’t do it!” he screeches.

                 The SUV swerves and nearly runs off the road as BA reacts to the sudden noise behind him.

                 “Captain?” Hannibal inquires, whipping around and looking over the back of his seat in alarm.

                “It’s so hot in here, why is it so hot in here?” Murdock is whimpering to himself, fumbling with the door’s controls, yanking on everything his hands come across. Face nearly has a heart attack when Murdock pulls the door’s release handle, fearing the disorientated man will tumble straight out of the vehicle. But the door stays closed, and Face meets BA’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Thank God for safety locks and BA’s reaction time.  

                Face unbuckles his seat belt and reaches out to try and calm the other man. “Murdock, Murdock, calm down, it’s ok!”

                The instant Face’s hand touches him, Murdock’s gaze snaps up. He shrinks away, up against the door, pushing against Face with terrified strength. “Don’t you touch me!” he snarls, spitting something else in another language.

                Face is getting scared now. Murdock has his moments, especially after waking up from nightmares. But after those first few months together, he’s always known who Face was within seconds, could always come back from where ever he had been in his head. But right now, Murdock’s normally warm brown eyes are almost completely black, pupils blown wide. He is still shaking violently, strands of hair sticking to his temples with sweat. And he is looking around as if lost.

                “All right! All right,” Face’s voice softens, and he backs up a few inches, hands held out to the side. “See? It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. Come on, Murdock, it’s me. It’s Face. I would never hurt you,” he croons.

                Face feels the car slowing and coming to a halt on the side of the road, the engine shutting off and the front seats creaking as BA and Hannibal turn to observe. They’ve each had turns calming Murdock down in the past, but he’s always responded best to Face. They seem willing to leave things to him for now.

                BA reaches up and flicks on the overhead light, better illuminating the backseat from the encroaching dusk. At the movement, Murdock flinches violently, gaze darting around the interior of the car. His harsh breathing is loud over the ticking of the cooling engine, and Face longs to draw him forward into his arms, but there still isn’t any recognition in Murdock’s eyes.

                “Murdock, where are you?” Face murmurs helplessly.

                Murdock glances towards Face at the sound of his voice and blinks rapidly. “Wha…?

                Face feels a flare of hope as Murdock squints at him, as if staring at him from a great distance away. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Come on back, buddy. It’s Face, Murdock. Do you remember who I am?” Face asks softly.

                “Faceman?”

                “Yeah, that’s me. What’s going on, man?” he asks as Murdock scrubs at his face with a shaking hand.

                When Murdock’s hand drops, his expression isn’t much calmer than before. His pupils are still dilated, and he’s still sweating heavily. “I don’t… I don’t…” he says, face screwing up in concentration. “Agh! Why don’t you work?!” he exclaims, smacking his head with his own hand.

                “Murdock! Stop it!” Face reaches out and grabs the other man’s wrist he can hit himself again. Beneath his fingers, Murdock’s pulse is beating rapidly, thrumming practically too fast to count.

                “Hannibal...” Face looks up at the Colonel pleadingly.

                “What’s wrong with the Fool?” BA asks, speaking up for the first time. Murdock doesn’t even defend himself, beginning to sway and mutter under his breath.

                “We did just break him out of a psychiatric hospital, boys,” Hannibal remarks, intently studying his pilot.

                “Yeah, but…”

                “He was on something. Now he’s not.” Hannibal states. “Who knows when his last dosing was?”

                “He’s in withdrawal?!” Face sputters, although it makes sense. Murdock’s switched out meds before, but always under doctor supervision. He’d been nauseous and subdued, but never anything like this.

                “Looks to be,” Hannibal says, rubbing his chin.

                “Well, what do we do?”

                “Keep him comfortable and get him to a doctor, I suppose.” Hannibal runs a hand through his hair tiredly.

                For some reason, Face is suddenly, inexplicably angry at his superior. “It’s not his fault! We’re the ones who broke him out of there in the first place.” Still mumbling, Murdock falls forward against Face’s shoulder, and he tightens the grip he still has on the pilot’s wrist. 

                Hannibal meets Face’s eyes straight on. “I never said it was, Face.” Their gazes hold for several moments until Face looks away, mouth set in an angry line. He slides back into his seat, pulling a now unresisting Murdock with him.

                The pilot is once again speaking in a different language, although this time Face recognizes it as Japanese. He is nowhere near as fluent as Murdock is however, and only can only catch a few words, something about butterflies and pudding.

                As Hannibal tells BA to take the SUV back on the road, Face encourages Murdock to lean over. He curls up on his side on the bench seat, moving as if it hurts. Somehow he manages to pull his limbs into the smallest ball possible and places his head on Face’s closest thigh. Face doesn’t know what else do, so he lays an arm on Murdock’s shoulder and pats it weakly. 

                A few minutes later, the muttering trails off and then stops. The trembling has subsided somewhat, and Face thinks Murdock has managed to fall asleep. So he’s startled when cold fingers reach up and twine themselves between his own.

                “Face?” Murdock’s voice is stripped bare of its normal humor and sounds childlike, vulnerable. Face squeezes the fingers in his grip, trying to warm them up.

                “Yeah, Murdock?”

                “I didn’t do it.”

Face has no idea what Murdock is talking about, just that he sounds desperate to be believed.

                “I know, buddy. I know.” That seems to be enough reassurance for the man; some of the tension seems to leave him at least.

                Face leans his head against the window and watches the rapidly darkening countryside slide by, hoping they reach someone who can help Murdock soon.

                A few more minutes pass, and Face is beginning to nod off, the adrenalin of the day no longer able to sustain him.

                “Face?”

                The conman blinks down at Murdock’s unruly mop of hair. “Yeah?”

                “You and Boss flew a tank today. That was awesome.”

                Face can’t stop the grin that blooms across his face. Murdock’s voice is still unsteady but there’s a hint of his old self there in the awe and pride winding through his words. And if he can manage to surface during the pain of withdrawal, Face can’t help but think that yeah, this is going to come together just fine after all.

 

~ End

               

               

               

               

 


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